Anwser me!
by Dancing Flurry
Summary: Zexion, man of wisdom, cannot understand love at First sight. But Demyx, the ever lively boy, dares to try and change his ways. Zemyx, Akuroku. Mild to strong language, mature themes and terms, all you wrap into M-ratings, no?
1. Chapter One

Answer me!

Again today, it was pouring rain. Three days in a row this had been happening, and Zexion agreed that it wasn't as odd as it may have sounded. Before then, there had been no rain for weeks before, and finally there has been a sign of reprieve. Zexion's eyes fixed themselves to the cold window, watching the pellets of rain follow down without a particular pattern. And it was then he noticed he was no longer reading. With a sigh he shut it, his interest lost to his sharp concentrating mind. With a sort of distance between realities he thought to himself. He was never a man of chance, and always relied on knowledge. Then again, he could never claim that luck was on his side. And speaking of luck, not only did it defy his reason, it also defied his reality on love. He never believed in love at first sight. He could only argue that it was a fool's way to make themselves feel better about their silly lives.

But to Zexion, anything that could not be scientifically explained could not possibly exist. Again a sigh left his lips as he ruffled his silver blue plume, the fringe hanging over his right eye. His fingers tapped in a rhythm against the wood, the chipped black painted nails making another distraction. How could he be so psyched out? Zexion groaned, landing his head on the center of the book, his glasses crushing painfully into his face. He knew that Axel, one of his only best friends, would tell him this was bad for his posture or something therapeutic and along those lines. But Zexion could hardly care. That is, until a hard jab was applied right between his shoulder blades. With a yelp he sat up, hands smashing into the counter to hoist his upper body to relieve that pain. His hair sliced the air noisily as his eyes whipped around to spot Axel, his co-worker.

"Sexion man, no sleeping on the job." Axel chuckled, a deviously cruel twinkle in his emerald green eyes. Zexion huffed, disturbed by the use of such a horrid nickname.

"Axel, do not use my name in such a profane manner. You are abusing your rights." Axel just chuckled, giving a large dramatic shrug with his hands high in the air.

"Hey now, better than Ienzo isn't it?" Zexion grunted, avoiding the near moan of disgust that escaped him. Oh lord, who else knew his real birth name? He just shook his head, gathering his book and placing it aside, turning around to fully glare at Axel, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

"Now Axel, do not play the naming game, for I know more dirt on you than you had on you when you were seven. And at seven, you jumped into seven foot deep piles of it." Axel chuckled at the memory, leaning against his side of the counter, legs spread to lean down low enough. Teasingly he tilted his toes to touch Zexion's shoe, secretly making it dirty.

"Alright, alright. You win. Just, don't slack off, y'know? I work hard enough." Zexion snorted loudly, almost in total mockery for Axel's words as he stood, hearing the cafe bell chime.

"Sure you do, _Ale_. Sure you do." And as soon as Zexion turned, the customer darted to his side and out of sight. He blinked quickly, wondering if it was all an illusion when he heard a squeal of a half pronounced name and then a thud as someone fell. He turned quickly around again, almost dropping his glasses as he saw Axel pounced on, his blood red hair splayed around his head and on the cold white tile he lay upon.

Zexion quirked an eyebrow as he fixed his glasses, soft violet blue eyes pinned on the albino pyro who was pinned by a cherub angel. Bright and round sky blue eyes rose to meet his own, a sheepish grin to his face as Roxas made a mock salute with two fingers, his legs folded behind him as he sat squarely on Axel's abdomen.

"Heya Zexion. Just... turn around for a minute will you?" Zexion rolled his eyes in an overly exuberant manner, turning his head slightly to the side, to pretend he was looking at the takeout window, but from his peripheral vision watched the couple. Roxas snorted softly, poking Zexion's knee cap. He grunted, shaking his head. "All the way Zexion." Axel attempted to butt in, a goofy happy grin on his face.

"It's simpler, Roxy, to say Sex-" With a grunt of his own his chest was met with a fierce kick from the bookworm, eyes angry and dangerous. Coughing the red-head rolled back, allowing the blonde to panic mockingly and lay down tightly on top of him. Zexion again questioned how these people even managed to glue themselves to a loner like him and rolled his eyes, laying his arms at length against the counter, leaning back with a sort of royal endearment.

"Roxas, I clearly know of your relations, and even more about how you demonstrate affections. Now get it over with whether or not I'm watching. It won't matter since you accomplish both so very well." Roxas simply giggled, nuzzling himself tighter against Axel's chest, whose perverted grin and flushed face gave very reassuring ideas to what he might be experiencing.

"Well you silly git, too bad. When I feel like it, I feel like it. Now look away!" Zexion was about to deny why he should again when an angelic chorus came to his rescue. (Literally, the bell over the door had rung) Instead of fussing with the 'child' and giving him his momentary liberty, he turned to serve his customer. His voice was soon caught in his throat as his eyes caught the guest. Beautiful cerulean blue eyes watched him, chasing all rational thoughts from his mind, leaving him stunned._ What is this feeling...?_

"Heya! I'm mighty thirsty, think you can hook me up?" Before Zexion knew it, he had been rendered speechless simply by his entry. He was still walking to the counter, having called out loudly to get their already rapped attention. Zexion tried to speak, chewing his lip as his mind eclipsed over and over, lost in this _creature's_ en_trance_. Note the trance part, for he felt lost in his own body, eyes locked and entirely confused but blown away. Finally as he stood there, sun kissed skin bright in the dull monochrome building, he noticed who this really was. Not only was this boy attractive, oh no, but Zexion _knew_ him. From school of course, since they never talked, but still. Zexion rose from his momentary loss and asked the boy's order.

"How may I take your order?" Demyx was the name, grinned and leaned forward, resting his elbows as he cupped his cheeks, his face going from jolly and innocent to one with a more sinister intent. Zexion felt bothered, but refused to lean back or move away lest he show weakness. Demyx's bracelets glinted brightly in the lights, sending colours all over the store's complex decorations. His eyes seemed like the water at the bottom of a cliff, beautiful but all consuming if you fell into their depths.

"Welp, I want a coffee." His smile was entirely dazzling, and Zexion couldn't help but note the lack of noise in the background. This made him gulp, unable to move his eyes away from Demyx's.

"A coffee. Would you like small, medium, or large?" Zexion was immensely surprised that his voice nor expression had yet to betray the turmoil he felt inside, the curling of his intestines and the butterflies growing fangs and eating his insides. But he knew his eyes behaved like the books he adored so, open to anyone to read. And it was dangerous letting someone remain so close, breathing the same breaths, but it was harder to pull away.

"Uhm, perhaps a small, Doctor?" He was mocking him and he knew it, eyes falling back into their harder collected look. The fluttering had become contained as Zexion glanced down, moving closer to the register to punch in numbers, expression fully schooled now. When the amount came up he stepped back to look at Axel and Roxas both peering up at him likes kittens caught shredding the duvet. His expression seemed to scar e them as they stood abruptly, almost falling over and scurried into the reception area. Zexion ignored that scene and started pouring coffee into a cup, placing the paper coaster around it and capping it off neatly.

"What did you do, Axel...?" Roxas was muttering under his breath, butting Axel's side with his drawn elbow. The jabbing was rough, but Axel seemed used to it as he shrugged, slouching far down to be at Roxas' level.

"I unno. He just changed suddenly..." Zexion again, with his everlasting patience ignored the two and placed the coffee beside Demyx's hand, punching more keys in the register and looking up to his smiling face.

"That will be one seventy two." Demyx dropped a toonie onto the counter, watching Zexion with a soft fondness hardly found in people anymore. Again, the lock on Zexion's butterfly cage rattled as he took it and counted twenty eight cents, handing the change to Demyx as the register ringed shut.

"Thanks..." He leaned closer, squinting to make out Zexion's name tag and smiled more, eyes glancing up quickly to lock with his. "Zexion." He purred, "Nice name by the way." And without another greeting from his lips snatched his coffee and walked out, ringing the overhead bell again. Zexion felt the cage curl in on itself with acid, the creatures inside dying out and collecting like little lumps into his core. The imagery made him smile his crooked dead smile, allowing him the chance to scurry into the back room and grab the broom.

Axel and Roxas on the other hand, had many things running through their heads. They watched Zexion leave, the apron around Axel's waist being mercilessly tugged upon by eager little hands. Axel just watched Zexion fade into the back room, eyes locked and wide in a sort of understanding. Even as Roxas started making noises that he knew meant pain was well on its way, he couldn't focus on that just yet. Zexion, the friend he had known forever had _never_ responded to anyone in such a manner. He was reserved, controlling and a schemer down to his bloody emo gothic fingernails. And this guy that, Axel had to grin, _knew_ so well was a good friend of his. Almost best friends even. As Zexion was busying himself, Demyx had slid a finger over his lips in sign of keeping a secret, and the couple obeyed.

"Axellll...! What's he doing?" Axel snorted gently, unable to tear his eyes away and comprehend that his _dead hearted_ friend had just _done_ that. But instead he responded like a zombie, lost in his memories and comparisons.

"Getting the broom." Roxas snorted gently, and with a bored look stared in the same vicinity. He huffed gently, moving some stray strands of hair from his face and blinked a few times.

"That was odd of him to do, wasn't it?" Axel nodded slowly, falling back into a chair. Roxas humphed as he was pulled back too, moving to sit in his lap quickly as they watched still, Zexion appearing and now sweeping the inside half of the cafe. "I mean, since I met him he's never responded that way to anyone."

"Same thoughts babe, just trying to remember I'm awake right now." Roxas chuckled at Axel's goofy voice, nudging his knuckle playfully into Axel's cheek.

"Silly goose, what do you think happened?" Axel shrugged, eyeing Roxas playfully too, eyes glowing with devotion and love.

"I think Sexion found a love interest." Roxas giggled softly, placing a stray curl of Axel's hair behind his ear, his own smile stretching.

"Oh? You think he's for the men?" Before Axel could respond however, they noticed something standing over them before Zexion cleared his throat for attention. Both boys snapped their heads up, looking quite fearfully up at their friend.

"No, I am not. Axel, you are still on duty and as your partner in shifts I demand you do your hours properly. Roxas, you are an acquaintance of mine and so are allowed to wait another half hour until Axel gets off. Please remain on your proper ends of the counter and I will be fairly pleased." Axel chuckled nervously, rubbing the back of his head.

"Well... because Roxy brought up such a good point... What's your sexual orientation Zexion?" Zexion knew this subject would never come to an end if he ignored it, or left it alone to rekindle and prosper would be worse. So reluctantly, he scurried for the answer in his mind, and his lip twitched at his brilliant cover.

"I'm asexual you dope. Now get to work." Axel and Roxas both blinked in confusion as Zexion walked off to finish his sweeping. Roxas grunted and leaned into Axel's ear, hoping to make sure Zexion had no chance in hearing him at all, but then again Zexion was all knowing.

"... I bet he lied."


	2. Chapter Two

The cafe had soon rolled around to ten at night, having the workers inside close up for the night and be sent home for the day, to embrace sleep and the dreams to come. Well more importantly, that applied to Axel alone. For Zexion however, the night was only half done. As he packed up his things, his mind was adrift on the events of what had come to pass, and the logs he had to sort. His life was based around work, science and books. To be able to live on his own, he had to make a salary large enough to pay for all his daily needs, and thus his family graciously offered a part time job at the family name store. Zexion, unable to refuse his family the smallest favour had agreed, and without much profit, thus his second job during the day.

But as much as his family loved him, he loathed them. He sometimes questioned if he was even related, for he was always the odd one out. His sister was a woman of short words, and it showed when she spoke. Her choice of speech sends a great impact on others, even sometimes crushing their will to her bending and manipulation. On the other end is his bigger brother Zack, who was upbeat, happy and joyful, best compared to a puppy of all creatures. The rest of his family followed his brother's path, which to lead to the current belief. Either way, Zexion only cared about what he had to do during his nights, which would never leave the walls of the store to anyone he knew.

"Greetings." Fuu was seated behind the counter, her soft lavender hair hanging chin length into her face as she read the fax papers. Her sharp red-brown eyes scanned the words quickly, reading efficiently and gathering the necessary information without the usual waste of time. The soft purple blue shirt she wore was zipped open, the shoulders hanging onto her arms as the small white muscle shirt hid her bust. The soft skin complexion seemed to have dimmed in the artificial light if the odd bones and skulls littered around her hadn't. Above and around the entire store and shelves hung dead animals, dream catchers and dried plants. The old smell of decay and books littered everything, even the dirt-clad mat at the front of the store. Books and shelves lined everywhere, making the spaces and walkways very small and made for only one person at a time. Zexion simply pushed his backpack under the counter as he ruffled his plume, his other hand straightening the zebra coloured stripped shirt around his waist.

"Hello Fuu. How was work today?" She simply huffed, putting the papers away and pulling out a key that seemed older than the store itself, the gold rusted in some places. Zexion watched her unlock the register and start counting the munny, again both experts in mathematics.

"Lame." He just nodded, taking that as enough info and starts putting on the antique apron they were forced to where as they cleaned. For hygiene of course. With a swift scoop of his hair it was clipped back with a feather clip, the two long blue and red feathers angled up almost like the Indians from children's books. Moving with decency he picked up a rag and some Windex, moving over to the night clad windows.

"It's always lame without business Fuu. I'm disappointed you have nothing to add." She simply shook her head again, carrying the munny into the back room where the safe was. Zexion took that as a no and started washing the windows clean, spraying and wiping when needed. He always wondered why his family kept their old Charms and Spells shop, because really he saw no point in keeping the old thing. Their family had a belief in the spirits and so on, but religions and voodoo were so overrated he highly doubted anyone else even knew what cult they were from anymore. Even the spells they had were older than the acclaimed Jesus Christ, and business was within the family. But diligently he washed and dusted the cases, dedicated to keep them happy with his efforts. Because hell knows what else will keep them happy.

As the hours ticked by however, the store was bustling with after hour cleaning. Zexion passed the broom and spray over dusty articles, keeping the appearance clean. Fuu continued to log what was sold and stolen, which was hardly anything at all, and to tune up the radio so there was actual noise within the cold stoic walls. The news was a safe station where they both would not bicker over taste and music, which they both took advantage to ignore. Fuu sat at the counter, checking the clock that said four twenty six A.M. and returned hr gaze to the radio and turning up the volume. The reporter was female, and her voice held urgency as she spoke. It shook with tension, as if she were on the scene of a ghastly event. By the sounds of smashing glass and pained filled screams, she probably was.

"We come in LIVE from a scene deep in Radiant Garden where a great battle has unfolded. Two groups of adolescents are now fighting tooth and nail to eliminate the other competitors!" the sound of an explosion shook the radio, making the reporter's voice loose itself in it for a few seconds before coming back in. "It seems that one half is cloaked in pitch black outerwear as the other team is wielding long sword like weapons, but the blades are-" A large Impish wail cuts her out again, this time freezing the radio frequency and stunning Fuu. This kind of thing never happened here anymore, and a sort of fear settled within her. Zexion seemed oblivious to her distress, focused on wiping down the last specs of dust on a particular book. Her hand came down hard on the radio, making it squeal and catch again as the reporter was spewing her words quickly, trembling and dripping with utmost fear.

"The battle is critical! No matter whom they are against, they won't stop fighting! They slash at one another, breaking bones with those copper and silver-" A large bang and a triumphant scream echoes, allowing the reporter's soft sob to come through. "In the history of my life, I have never seen such a bloody combat..! They would even kill themselves in a hand made bomb to make sure the other dies…!" A few more yells and police sirens start to flare, the sound of gunfire coming strong and causing a deep throw of silence over the fighters on the other end. For once in her life, Fuu was rendered speechless by the happenings on the radio. Nothing could have shocked her more until the reporter continued.

"This... this is horrible..! The fighters that are shot down refuse to lay down and start getting up, killing their opponents even as they are dying! What has brought such hate to our generation?! What abnormality is this-?!" Before she could go on however, the feed was cut and sent back to base, where an anchorman took over, a softer more controlled volume in his speech. "We… we come to you Live from Radiant Garden Seventh gate square, where the battle and loss of many had begun two hours ago. We will be right back with more information concerning the ending of this story." A chime and tune from the News channel played and commercials took over. Fuu could only stare at the table, lost in the sounds of what had just been reported. People of her age, maybe even people she new, could have died today. This unsettled her, especially with the specifications of the fighters. Who fought in Radiant garden anymore?

"Fuu… I said Fuu. What are you daydreaming about, Dear Fuu?" She jumped, turning her gaze towards Zexion, who was peering with a dull curiosity at her. His expression seemed almost overdone, as if he was trying his best to make it. This did not help Fuu settle her distress.

"… Bothersome." She jabbed her thumb towards the radio as it continued to spill commercials that meant nothing, falling on deaf ears. Zexion looked at it and nodded, albeit grimly, his expressions seemed to remain neutral.

"Indeed. Wisdom is no longer our ally, and it only serves to show that people are foolish." Without clarifying, he turned and started cleaning once more. Fuu shook her head, still bothered and decided this was her break, taking her time in the restroom. Zexion, once she was gone, dropped all his defences and flicked the radio off, dipping his head.

"Fools… they should know better than to infuriate them…" With a stubborn shake, he resumed Fuu's job so they could clock out early. When she came back, without a word began to close up.

They both gathered their things, nodding to one another and parted ways, the lights flickering off as the sun made its slow climb into the sky. Zexion hung his head; letting his feet guide him home as his shoulders sagged with weight. The news on the radio only served to worsen the inevitable, and he knew this would not be the end. As he travelled, he noticed insignias spread about; most he knew all to well. Some had a red heart with a sideway X made of thorns and surrounded by black. Most knew it better as the Heartless Symbol, others as the bringers of death.

Other times, there were odd colours that made a small three-pronged crown, named the Keyblader's crown or better yet, the Chosen Killers. These two groups were common gangs formed among the towns in the region, each one known for their endless feud with the other. No matter what happened, they would remain in constant battle towards one another, merciless and murderous. Zexion should have known better than to hope that they would stop fighting, especially near his own nest. But then again, he was always the first to judge what was to go wrong. It was piteous how they fought without much purpose, killing again and again in the name of nothing.

Before long Zexion arrived to his dorm, opening the door by card and swiftly following up the steps to his room. At the university he went to, it was mandatory to keep rooms clean, and Zexion took utmost pride in how well he could follow the code. When it came down to it though, the true reason was simply to eliminate any sort of trace that meant he inhabited the place. Whether or not it was strange, it only really mattered to him anyway. The walls remained off white, the floor a soft off white, and his bed and sheets off white. Nothing that he had up on his walls attached to him at all, not the single poster behind his door, not the research books in his bookcase, not even the pillows spread on his bed. It was a lonely life Zexion assumed, but it made him feel better to be so isolated, to be more apart from the society's norms. A lone phone sat on the desk, the red light flashing as a signal to a recorded message. Putting his keys down in a tray and hanging up his coat, he pushed the button and let the machine tell him what to do.

Then, his mother's soft sweet voice echoed from the machine, the cheer almost sickening to his stomach. "Hey honey, it's Aqua, your mom." He rolled his eyes, slipping off his shoes and started taking off his shirt, revealing small lacerations all along the inside of his elbows. He paid poor attention to them as he tossed his shirt into a hamper, kicking off his tight pants with slim difficulty and tossing them too. "Just calling in to tell you I love you." There was a husky chuckle on the other line, presumably his father Saix. There was a small shuffle as Aqua hit her father in the arm, giggling softly at his stoic antics. "Your father wishes the same. We also wanted to let you know we're having a family dinner in two weekends so you can put it on your calendar, so don't forget!"

Zexion again rolled his eyes and dressed himself in pyjamas, stalking around the room to tidy up here and there, doing the dishes as his mother continued telling him about her week and how her life was. It was kind of nice sometimes, making him feel like he was still included. Like he was still normal. But soon the message was almost done, his rowdy sibling on the other line chirping in with Aqua to finish a livid tale. He finished his cleaning, sorting his schoolwork in his bag and finishing his small routine.

"So again, we love you Zexion, have a great weekend and do not forget, the second one is our special dinner visit!" There was silence, and her voice dropped to an almost pleading one. "Zexion… please attend this time. We were so heartbroken last time. Please, we love you very much." Here's where it got awkward. The line rolled for a few moments in total silence, the reel making noises as there was a scuffing on the other end, then a weak broken sigh, the ruffle of hair and a last voiced attempt at cheer. "Can't wait to see you. Bye, Zexion. _End of Message._" He nodded to no one in particular, turning off the machine and flicking on the lamp on his desk. With a glance to the clock, he knew that at nine thirty he had a class, and that if he went to bed now he'd got two and a half hours of sleep. With a soft sigh he flicked the lamp off and slid into his sheets, lying perfectly still in the eerie soft light.

There was total silence except for the vent that shook faintly as the cold air seeped in, the noises from the rowdy students partying downstairs and the cars on the highway outside. A bird fluttered into a nearby branch, singing softly to the cold morning wind. As he listened, he felt he could feel the world at his fingertips, the natural beauty enveloping and welcoming. It was a good silence, a restful and peaceful one that soon before he thought, lulled him into a gentle deep sleep.

The class by this time was empty; hardly any students had dared to attend. The class usually had about seven students, and only three had shown up, Zexion included. The teacher was as exasperated as she could get, her soft forest green eyes resting on all the students in a soft silent pity. Her voice was so soft; it made him wonder why she taught English literature.

"Where is everyone?" The other two students, a Tidus Akazy and Selphie Modish, seemed unable to answer her lest their consciousnesses fail them. But for Zexion, this was a whole different matter. He held a perfect posture in his seat, hands folded over his notebook and pencil, along with a professional eraser pen. His gaze was fixated on his teacher's, expression neutral and cold, as it always was.

"Miss Gainsborough, the other students had a party last night and have been intoxicated to the point of sickness. They shall not be attending today." Her face dropped to a sadder one, causing Selphie and Tidus looking at him as if he were crazy to dare make her feel worse. But instead, Aerith just tucked the curled bang at the side of her face behind her ear, and let the chocolate brown locks fall back into place. Her bow seemed a duller red today, as her face seemed lost. The beautiful button down pink dress also seemed hardly ironed, the creases showing all over.

"I-I see. Thank you, Ienzo." He nodded, eager for his lesson to get started. Aerith took her time getting her things, but soon the lesson was underway and Zexion was able to lose himself in the information. His only purpose at school was to achieve a score that far surpassed an average genius, get his degree and become a psychologist. It was his only reason of existence, and this was the first milestone he was to pass. His mother and father fawned over him often and without prior need, to the point where Zexion moved out to be on his own. Even apart he was rooted to the ground, unable to understand why they needed to remain so close. He felt like he never fit in with any of his family, even the father he resembled dearly, and the sister that shared his behaviour.

It might also explain his detachment to life in general and his lack of care for other human beings, but only he truly knew why he was the way he was. And as most secrets should be, they go to the grave. Days passed like nothing in his brilliant mind, and it was sometimes hard to retain a face that would mean nothing to you later. And so his day had gone by from psychological labs to presentations, and then it was time to head to the café for work again. A never-ending cycle until he could get his own life, and it would remain as such.

"Oh Ienzo!" But he seems to always forget that people are always involved in his life and no matter what, he would have to deal with them. Turning around, his dull cobalt eyes trailed upwards to see his teacher, Miss Gainsborough approach him. He shifted the dull grey sleeve from his hand and fixed his glasses, fixing her with a attentive look.

"Yes, Miss Gainsborough?" She smiled softly, but it never showed through her obvious upset mood. He was tempted to raise an eyebrow, but he restrained such a foolish action.

"I wanted to talk to you real quick. About school of course." He nodded and stepped towards her, a silent signal she seemed to understand and turned around, leading the way with her brown hiking boots clicking against the pale sickly yellow tiles. The walls had a gentle oak brown that lined it, making him think that maybe it would be better on the floor instead, but he shook away such a foolish thought and followed her into her gentle lavender office. The desk was a darker blood oak as the two chairs were metal and plastic green, the kind usually found in elementary schools. Frames of her family polluted the space, crammed all over her desk and forcing her walls to bend with thier combined weight.

Unable to watch all these loving memories without feeling sick, he took the chair closest to the door, the one also furthest from the walls and her desk. She took her seat and curled her dress to her knees; looking up with a sort of wise beauty at him, smile becoming a much better and happier one. His eyes fixed her back, the expression worn ever dull and dead, but it was who he was after all. She seemed to flinch, as if this hurt her all the more and upset her. But alas, nothing ever pleased anyone now did it?

"So you needed my attention, Miss Gainsborough?" She nodded, pulling out a folder and looking it over, eyes flitting over what she knew and then to him ever slightly. He raised an eyebrow, confused by this behaviour as Aerith then shut it and leaned back into her chair, her bangs falling into her face as she eyed him with a gentle and sort of loving expression. Again, she got nothing in return.

"Yes, I wanted to talk to you, Ienzo." Zexion nodded and waited, not in any particular hurry. After all, work started in four hours, one that would be spent en route to get to his destinations.

"Well Miss, I have the time. Please, do go on." Aerith frowned, feeling slightly as if she was being mocked, then remembered her intensions and cleared her voice, making it stronger.

"Well, it's about school."

"School Miss Gainsborough?" Zexion was indeed confused, as much as he could be. Why was school being mentioned? Wasn't he getting perfect scores?

"Yes, mostly about your social skills." _Oh great, not another social workshop with her, please. _

'What about them, Miss Gainsbo-" She cut him off, leaning onto the desk with speed, as if springing to trap him in that sentence.

"Please, call me Aerith. And I seem to think you are lacking. In something…" The confidence she had was lost in a moment, her eyes showing so much emotion like an open window. Zexion without a doubt took advantage of such openings.

"Please, do continue." His voice had clearly stiffened, his mind battling to keep himself restrained and not to lash at his teacher. That last comment really affected him, and he could not let it show.

"Well… to start…" She rubbed her chin, eyes looking around clearly in thought until she spotted a good picture and looked to Zexion again. "How many friends do you have? Both in and out of school?"

"I have two." His eyes threatened to narrow already, his mood dropping slowly into deeper waters.

"Can you name them?" She was grinning now, as if triumphant. Zexion felt that he was charged to knocking her down.

"Axel and Roxas." She nodded, accepting that and continued, knitting her fingers together, twiddling her thumbs side by side.

"And do you see them often?" He shrugged, playing indifference as he eyed an empty spot on the wall.

"When I go to work at the café. Nothing pressing. They are going out." Zexion huffed softly, confused to the direction of her questioning.

"Well, do you envy that?" He blinked slowly, eyeing Aerith with a hard expression; she knew she had him cornered.

"No, I don't see the point in it. What good is a relationship?" Zexion knew he may lose this battle and quickly retreated into his carapace, looking around and away. Aerith it seemed only wanted to tighten the noose.

"Do they remind you of your mother and father?" Zexion's entire posture straightened and stiffened, becoming unreadable as his face smoothed out and became a mask again. His eyes though, blazed with hidden emotions, almost startling the poor woman from her seat. But in the tides of her mind, she knew she hit gold.

"Miss Aerith, I do have three hours worth of homework, one and a half from your own class. Please, get to the point-" his voice slipped as he hissed, almost losing his control. "or I may have to rudely leave and interrupt our pleasant meeting." Aerith could only bob her head, lips sucked in as she finally understood whom she was fighting with.

"I-I see, let me explain my questions. I was flipping through my folders when I came upon a few oddities in yours." Zexion nodded, his reserve sending chills down Aerith's spine. Never had she seen such fierce restrictions on any of her patients, and this sent dread into her stomach. Zexion however, did not grace her with a response. Taking another deep breath, she continued. "How old are you Zexion?" He hesitated, blinking a few times before responding.

"E-eighteen…" Aerith made a soft sigh, flipping through the files again.

"Eighteen? So your birthday should be in 1992, correct?" Again the silent rage refused to swerve any other way, and he only nodded in response. Again, it seemed hesitated. " But the birth date on your file says you were born 1990. That would make you… twenty. Which is clearly false."

"W-what..? Th-that must be a typo. Just a simple computer mishap." Zexion, in his own mind, was quite confused. Whoever messed up in the office sure drinks too much.

"Hm, I thought so at first. But then again, could be something else." Aerith hummed softly, skimming the pages and trifling over little things. "I guess that's all. Make sure to get this fixed, alri- Zexion?! Wait! Hey!" Before she could say more, however, Zexion had gathered his things and in a flash disappeared out the door. Even as she tried to run into the hall and after him, he was long gone.

Sometimes it paid to avoid conflicts.


	3. Chapter Three

"_Greetings sir Ienzo Maesn Fair. You have three new messages. Recorded Tuesday the third of February at Eight thirty P.M. Message one." _The machine whirred as the tape spun and began to play, the red light flickering on to signal it was indeed working. A very cheerful male voice spoke from the machine, the speed quick and playful like a playing pup.

"Hey there Zexion boy! It's Zack! How are ya doin' little bud? Working hard I see. Fuu tells me you focus on work so much half the stuff I needed to do was done before I showed up at the shop! Little rascal, I need to make some change too!" There was a throaty laugh that echoed, the noise of a chair being toppled over heard in the background. He snickered and then continued on his message.

"Just calling to let you know, because I now mom would have, but I-" There was an awkward pause, a knowing sound as Zack hesitated, thinking over what he was going to say. "I believe I should mention it too. Two weekends, we're having a dinner. Do not miss it, Mom was… well she was devastated last time." His voice began to tremble with hidden emotions of sorrow and grief. "You shouldn't let her feel like you hate her, Zex. It's awful to do that. And we're family, but it hardly feels like I know you anymore. Come hang out with me sometime, yeah? We only live about what-" There was a cold hearted sarcasm added to his voice as he continued. "Two blocks away from each other? I don't bite; I won't trap you into anything. Just…" This time, there was a good silence for a minute and ten seconds, and then he whispered brokenly. "We love you, Zexion. And we miss you a ton." The machine clicked, signalling that the message was almost done, almost clipping out the last words before it ended. "Da-… -es… -oo. Bye-"

"_End of first message. Second message recorded Wednesday the fourth of February at ten forty seven A.M. Message two." _The whirring stopped and clicked a few times, then resumed spinning as a new and more timid voice came on. The female speaker seemed younger then the first, the voice rising and sinking octaves without much notice.

"H-hello Ienzo… It's me; S-Selphie…I-I was just calling to make sure… make sure that you were coming today! Yes, I-I, well I mean the team thinks that maybe…" She went silent, searching through pages and books, as if searching for information. "we need to work together to get the project done. We… understand that you are a very good worker and dedicated to get it done… but we must work together. I-I wanted to pass the message from all of us… that you should take a break from our next meeting…" Her voice rose as it trembled, her obvious fear that she insulted him very evident. "I-I don't mean that we are kicking you out either…! Please don't think that of us! We just, want to reward you for your hard work. This project was supposed to take the week to finish, and we are already three days ahead of schedule. So, please for our sakes, take this opportunity to rest up and come bright and happy to class, a-alright..?" It went dead for a moment, and then a few muffled whispers were heard on the other end of the line. Simply put, Tidus was transferring his message through the skittish and shy poor girl, without the courage to do it himself.

"W-well, we're going to get to work on it now. When you show up tomorrow, don't forget to bring the psychology books with you, okay? Th-thanks for understanding I-Ienzo… H-have a good day-!" And without much warning the call ended abruptly, leaving no room for much else. The machine beeped and clicked as it stopped, then shifted the tapes again.

"End of second message. Third message recorded today the sixth of February at Eleven two A.M. Final message." With another whirr it started up, but there was nothing for a long while on the other end. Slowly as the silence became overwhelming, the panting of someone or something could be distinguished. It was slow and controlled, as if resisting an unseen enemy. It sometimes stopped and the slow licking of the lips could be heard, the tiny pop as the lips came apart to breath again. Nothing was said, just sitting there, breathing, listening, and thinking. The tape continued to roll for minutes on end, the timer counting to three minutes, five minutes, seven minutes, and twelve minutes. But not a word was said. The person waited and waited, as if hoping for someone to pick up and talk with them. But as the counter beeped a warning at fourteen minutes, the person finally spoke so faintly and quickly it sounded like a guttural hiss that broke off with the beeping of the machine.

"_End of final message. To save your messages, press one. To delete the first message, press four. To delete the second message, press five. To delete the third message, press six. To delete all the messages press zer-" _Before it could continue, the button was pressed and it whirred for a new speech._ "Messages, deleted."_

The cafeteria at this time of day, twelve thirty to be precise, was always full from class release. The students milled around, finding seats and friends, collecting food and making meetings for homework. In a distant corner furthest from the exit were Tidus and Selphie, working away on their project. Tidus' bright hay golden hair was ruffled every few moments, his odd sleeve scattering their tools. Selphie's curled brown spires were played with in nervous tandem. Papers were scattered all over the table, making Zexion's eye twitch just at the sight. They discussed among one another and circled things with a red pen, again making Zexion's hand break his plastic fork. Ironic really how he came here to make sure they worked hard, and he was killing himself in the process. So reluctantly, because deep down he knew that they were dedicated and it was proven by their participation in class, he turned to eat his food in silence. He needn't worry about their work neither, for they also knew what they were doing.

The food was bland, and it made everything seem blander. Bland coloured pasta, bland wilted salad, bland pale oranges, it was all just disgusting. If anything, Zexion might as well cook for himself because the food here was expensive and worth scrap nothing. With another restrained sigh he ate in silence, accompanied by nothing but that. The noises around him however served to be smaller distractions, calling his attention here and there as he caught small parts of various conversations. All of it was shallow and so _human_ it was sickening him. Prodding at his noodles a little more, he froze as a telltale figure stood over him, shrouding his sight for a milli-second before the bracelets sparkled over the table. A soft tune hummed from him, the iPod on a much too high level to be good for anyone. _Demyx. _

"Well heya 'Zexion'! Didn't remember you until now! I forgot we went to class together!" He chuckled softly, placing his tray down and sitting himself across from Zexion. Demyx started eating loudly, smiling at his new companion. He noted the odd coloured hoodie his counter-part was wearing, the bland plain grey matching with his pants and shoes. 'Monochrome, how lame' he thought. But still, the beautiful locks of hair were enough colours for him to look at.

"Well, I hardly talk with anyone either, it is no surprise really." Zexion shook his head gently, prodding his orange now. He really didn't want to talk with Demyx, the man brought about something within him that burned his insides and set acid to melt his brain down. It wasn't painful, but extremely uncomfortable.

"Well, then we should be friends. I can be your voice box.' He grinned goofily, prodding his noodles without purpose and watching Zexion fidget and poke his own food. The looks Zexion kept making amused him, making his lips twitch in need of smiling wider.

"Voice box?"

"Yeah, a voice box." He chuckled, using the fork as a pointer. Zexion frowned, disbelieving and continued, aware that a pair of eyes glued themselves to his form.

"What purpose does that serve? I do not understand what you are proposing." He looked down, unable to peer at the crashing waves that threatened to swallow him whole. Something in his chest started to throb and burn, becoming more obvious second by second.

"I'm proposing we talk and hang out more, me being the talkative one since you don't seem to be the type." He took a mouthful of his food, chewing happily and points again, leaning in close. "What _is _your type anyway?"

Zexion sent a chilling glare, mouth pulled in a firm displeased line. Demyx chuckled and continued eating, crinkles forming around his eyes with that soft smile of amusement.

"See? Already I need to talk for you." He laughed softly, causing a small reaction to dance on Zexion's lips. But he forced himself into neutral once more; the watching eyes causing another burn in his skin. With a quick glance he assessed that it was Axel watching him, food dropping from his fork in disbelief. This was going to be hard to explain. Demyx seemed to not have noticed.

"But yeah, I really enjoy being in your company. Never had someone who was so quiet, and I don't really like it so I fill it with talking. Hope you won't mind, man!" He chuckled again; rubbing his elbow into Zexion's hand for a split second before he yanked it off the table and under it, hiding them from him. Although most would be startled, He just laughed and kept leaning closer.

"Do you like chocolate?" The random question seemed innocent enough as Zexion looked down at the table, observing the small pencil scratches and mindless doodles carved into the wood. His fingers twitched with the want to touch them, and it took everything he had not to.

"Not all chocolate…" Demyx perked as he heard the silent boy speak, chuckling for the hundredth time that day and licked his lips.

"A picky chocolatier, eh?" The atmosphere was starting to warm up, the discomfort Zexion faced before beginning to fade gently and be replaced by this new warmth. All this had his thoughts in a whirl of confusion. _Why can't I focus? Why do I feel on fire? This doesn't make sense…!"_

"I-I would go as far to say so…"

"Heh, what kinds do you like?"

"Lindor… the milk chocolate kind." Quickly Zexion shook his head to get the distractions to latch off and allow him to focus for a moment. "Why do you trifle in such useless matters?" Demyx again chuckled and this time tapped a long calloused finger on his nose. Zexion blinked once, twice, then wrinkled his nose in discomfort. What sort of action had that been? He couldn't quite tell as an image flickered in his minds eye. Demyx's eyes flashed and flickered, turning a haunting yellow as they peered at him, Zexion now in a different room. The room was shrouded in the dark of night, the chair he had been on replaced by a small bed. He could tell that the man before him now was not Demyx anymore, but a taller, more well built and scarier man. The X shaped scar on his face glared at him, the shocking electric blue hair framing that handsome beastly face. _Saix…_Without hesitation the image was bombarded and stocked into the deeper reaches of his mind until he could pay attention later. All he could think about was the world that sat before him.

"Well y'see, when you make friends you tend to try and find out who they are to make them happy. You find similar interests and amuse yourselves diving into them." Zexion only huffed, ignoring the prodding blonde and examined the remains of his dish. There was nothing worth salvaging as he suddenly stood and scooped with him his messenger bag, startling Demyx out of his chair. With a curt nod Zexion lifted his head and walked away without a single glance back but a short and cut through response.

"I'm interested in nothing." And before Demyx could pursue, the door to the exit opened and Zexion was swallowed in the entering crowd.

The music room was never filled, always like his other classes with Aerith. This time however, there was only one other student that could show up. And to make matters a little stranger however, the ever-present teacher had yet to show her face. Zexion simply decided to wait for her and wander over to his chosen seating, putting down the case he lugged with him. He checked his watch, the monochrome silver cased watch flashing in green numbers 5:27. He simply flicked his wrist so the sleeve would fall into place and putting the case on his lap. With a careful ease he flicked the clips open and pulled the lid open to reveal a beautifully crafted lavender violin. It was hand painted by a professional, the small intricate vines decorating the body and shaded to look almost too real.

He shuffled the case carefully to the floor and placed the corresponding dip to his chin, arching his arms properly and taking a position of poise. With a steady hand he took the bow and began a steady thrum over the cords. A soft tune rang out into the empty room, making a smile twitch on Zexion's hard-pressed lips. He continued strumming, forming up a hauntingly sweet yet sad tune, and continued in its wake. The music however, was dead and cold, without any human emotions backing it up, the sweet tenderness other melodies was lost to it. It was impossible to say why it was so bone chilling, and he continued to play. He closed his eyes, trying to lose himself, forcing his being in it, and to no avail did he succeed.

He did become distracted, losing trace of time as he played. The song rang through his mind like a beckoning bell, slow and steady as the music sheet flowed through his mind to guide his hand. His fingers started to cramp from holding so tightly, but as he did most things in life pressed it out of his train of thought and kept playing. He sometimes felt a look gorging on his turned back, but his music was more important than a stranger. It wasn't until finally he _knew_ someone was there that he felt interrupted and unable to continue his secret melody. Seems it wasn't so secret anymore. With a last final note, he lowered both the instrument and the bow, looking towards the door. A shape was hidden there, the shadow peering into the classroom and moving with a sort of urgency. Soon after, Ariel, the music teacher stumbled inside with a large guitar case strapped to her back.

"Oh Ienzo, I'm so sorry I was late! I was so busy attending to my other class and business I lost track of time! Please forgive me!" She panted, dropping her notebooks and binders onto her desk, sending papers and coffee cups flying around. Zexion could only blink in slow confusion, wondering why she had hung near the door for so long.

"Not a problem Miss Triton. I was occupied for the time being…" What confused him more, however, were the gentle streaks of tears on her cheeks and how her eyes seemed red and puffy. He recognized the signs that she had been crying. He had never known his teacher to cry like this, nor seem so upset. She was always the sunshine in the morning, the one person who never seemed sad. This unperturbed him a little.

"Alright, I'm glad you understand. I hope you weren't waiting too long." She started sorting her things, but it was erratic and confused, her brow pressed as she herself tried to see through her confusion.

"Not a problem miss…" Zexion put his violin away and walked over, helping her collect her papers in order and the like. She flashed a weak smile and finished putting her things away, then eyeing Zexion piteously.

"I'm sorry Ien, I just… don't think I can teach today. I feel too, overused. I'm sorry." Zexion was more upset over the fact that his teacher was hurting then that his class was cancelled, but he would never admit it, even as his last breath.

"It's alright, but what is your dilemma, miss?" She sobbed weakly, running her hands through the familiar red hair, the enormous bang falling quickly back into her face. Her soft forest green V-neck flattered her curves as her bell-bottom jeans did the same, the bottoms tinted in salt from the streets.

"W-well, I hope you've heard the news of the gang fight yesterday?" Zexion nodded slowly, in his deepest reaches swearing an undying revenge on the death bringers. Those foolish heartless bastards. "Well, m-my daughter was among them at the time…" She sniffled loudly, tears training her face again. The anguish that was present was more powerful than any words could be, and Zexion immediately understood what had happened. God damnit, why her?

"I am so sorry Miss Triton." He opened his arms in offering, and Ariel took it immediately, crushing her face into his shoulder. She was about two heads taller, but any comfort would suffice for the moment. He wasn't used to this type of thing, so went with what he remembered, his mother rubbing his back… Zexion sighed as he realised that no, that wasn't a memory he had. So instead of dwelling on this factor, he rubbed her back as the woman sobbed in his shoulder, hands clinging to his shirt to wipe away the tears. He knew the black and red cotton would stretch, but he didn't mind too much. He looked at the clock and noticed it had been fifteen minutes she had been sobbing. Without making a noise, he looked down to her to see how she was fairing. Another few minutes passed as Zexion counted to his two hundredth Mississippi when Ariel rose her head and rubbed her swollen eyes, hiccupping as she stood back. Zexion eyed his sweater and saw the giant wet spot, shuddering at what others would imagine it was.

"Th-thank you, Ienzo… I-I should get going, don't want to trouble you any further." Zexion shook his head and handed her her guitar.

"No problem Miss Triton. It was no effort on my part. Please, feel better soon." She nodded and slid the strap over her head, rubbing another stray tear away and smiled, walking towards the door and taking her leave. Zexion waited till she left, gathering his own things and headed home. With a quick glance at his watch, he noted that he had three hours before work. With a nod, he left the room and made sure the door was locked, and a small lingering thought led to another as he left. Unaware to him however, oceanic eyes watched his movements with a still sadness.

The bell rang eerily over the door, the café oddly empty from its usual bustling business boom. The supposed redhead wasn't where he was supposed to be, the normal warm colours missing from the vacant space. Taking his hat off, Zexion hung his coat and scarf at the front, walking towards the register with his uniform in proper order. The clean black tee was slightly V-necked, revealing a slight bit of his collarbone as his hand touched the register, finding the whole surface cold. Pocketing a note pad in the brown and green insignia apron, he took a few steps into the back room when he heard the noise, that soft but tell tale moan. His brow furrowed as he stopped, the silence engulfing his senses for a few lingering moments before the noise came again, but louder and in a more concentrated form.

"Ah-Axel…!" Zexion's eyes closed as he took three controlled and struggled breaths, knowing exactly what was occurring in the back room. Instead of walking inside and having that horrifying image burned into his head yet again, he decided to let them finish, clean up, _then _make them pay. This plan seemed the better option as he started turning things on, making sure the music was on to block out Roxas' mewled and panted cries of pleasure. With a dishevelled rag he washed the counters and machines, making everything sparkled as he heard Roxas' last cry of pleasure, hearing nothing more from them as the door rang. He hardly looked up as the customer sat down, meaning a waiter was needed. Meaning in Zexion's world that Axel better get out here now. With a short glance he noticed the customer was wearing a trench coat and a hat that hid his face from view, but Zexion wouldn't grace himself with an inkling of curiosity as he entered the back, knocking hard on the closet door. The people inside shifted in shock, Roxas eeping the loudest. He sighed softly, finding everything was becoming troublesome today.

"Axel, we have a customer that needs to be waited on. Care to do your job?" Axel howled with laughter as Roxas swore angrily, the two bickering as Zexion retreated to the front. The customer started tapping the table with gloved hands, not looking upset that he had yet to be served, but more like waiting. He shrugged, cleaning the coffee pots in the sink when Axel shuffled out, his uniform lacking the cleanliness Zexion's possessed. He sighed, walking over and tugging Axel's shirt into place. Roxas stumbled out, looking appeased but in a similar shape as Axel. With a few quick pat-downs, Zexion had Axel in order and sent him to the table. Roxas watched Zexion as he returned to his duties; an eyebrow neither rose as Zexion hardly looked around nor messed with his job. This seemed to confuse Roxas a little.

"Hey Zexion…" he chided, trying to play it up. His counter-part had no intention of looking his way, but responded in the most casual manner he could muster.

"Yes, Roxas?" Zexion's hands moved busily over the counter, not forgetting about a single square inch.

"Why do you work so hard? I mean, it's just a job." He shrugged, leaning against the counter as he glanced to Axel, seeing he was still talking with the man, but seemed slightly stiff in his stance. His brow furrowed in curiosity until he looked back at Zexion, who had an oddly angry face.

"Any job worth doing is worth doing well." Zexion's voice wavered with the undertone of anger, something that shocked Roxas greatly. When had Zexion ever been moved by a few tiny words?

"Well yeah but… shouldn't there be more to it then that?" He questioned, peering to the side at Axel again. He seemed to be hunched forward, as if what the man had been saying was a great weight tossed onto his shoulders. The way the window was placed behind them masked any identification of any sort on the man, making him completely unknown. This made Roxas' heart clench in worry.

"No. Work is meant to take all your focus and energy to create something. Whether it is big or small." Zexion finally lifted his head, eyeing Roxas who wasn't paying attention, and slowly turning his face towards the customer. Axel now no longer seemed timid, oh no. He seemed enraged, face dark and lips taunt. When he seemed cold, it was because he was the volcano ready to erupt. They both knew this was bad, and worse when Axel nodded and turned to walk away, facing the two with a pained expression. What had transpired? They both leaned up to meet him, questions on the tips of their tongues, but he didn't even stop, he walked right into the back room. Roxas, the worrier, followed after him quickly as Zexion with a more stable pace tailed behind. Axel was already smashing boxes upon their entry, and still Axel's face had hardly changed.

"Axel?" Roxas ventured, taking a step forward and reaching a hand. Immediately Axel was soothed and walked over, collapsing onto his boyfriend with a hug. He nuzzled into every part he could, startling Roxas with this reaction. Zexion watched without expression, listening and waiting for Axel to explain himself. Especially when he sat up, and forcibly their eyes met. Zexion swears he saw a sort of knowing look, but it is lost as Axel looks back to Roxas.

"I-I'm sorry. That guy I knew before, he was a sort of connection I used to have… He came to me with a job." His face tightened as his throat convulsed, showing just how hard this was to say. Zexion knew about Axel's old destructive habits, especially around drugs that helped increase body temperature and block out memories. He collected the change, and he received a small dose as the reward. It was nothing but a grim memory that even itself began to fade.

"I-I understand. What did you do?" The question was key, completely important. Axel nodded and kissed his forehead, fingers entwining their hands together. This became too much for Zexion as he averted his eyes and looked to the door, taking his leave.

"I told him no, even at the risks. He said fine, and that my name would be removed from their list. For good this time." He smiled a weary smile, the re-runs of his mistakes wearing him down. Roxas understood, giving a soft kiss to his nose. It was intimate and perfect, instilled in their minds as they held one another, content. Zexion however, was not in the same peace of mind. His heart was twisting with something he didn't understand, and he felt bile rise in his throat. In his mind, he could only wish he understood what these things meant, and it confused him that he had never felt these things before, yet understood them now. He knew he was feeling jealousy, but it scared him because he hadn't _felt_ it before. He eyed the front again, noting the customer was gone, but something lingered in its place.

"… I should clean the tables." He mumbled, to no one in particular and grabbed another rag, setting out to do so. He make care to wash each table efficiently, making circles from the outside in, making sure to get every speck he could. His thoughts whirled around what Axel had experienced, and about his own discoveries and these new 'emotions'. What had spurred them on? He roamed counter clock wise, doing every table before reaching the main one he aimed for. Zexion couldn't help looking over at it, the curiosity killing him until he walked up to it. On the table, all by it's lonesome, was a small keychain. He felt his body lock up and freeze, every cell burning with the lack of oxygen reaching them. Zexion _knew_ for a fact he had never seen the little blue rag bear doll, not the little button eyes and the sewn in face. Yet all of it seemed so eerily familiar, as if it _had_ been his all along, and he just left it there by accident.

Zexion felt the familiar sensation of warmth, the kind you felt in a parent's embrace, or when you arrived home from a long journey. It was the thing you liked when you hugged it for comfort, or the food you ate to feel better. He hardly noticed when his hand picked it up, or when he cradled it to his chest. The rag lay on the floor from when he dropped it, yet his spinning mind hardly seemed to have picked any of these things up. All he could think of was how glad he felt having this little hand-sized object clutched between his hands, and the memory that flooded his mind.

He remembered the mall very well. It was all made of glass windows for people to see what was going on inside the stores. The floor was marble patterned, as if their whole world composed itself from a giant chessboard. The ceilings mocked real cathedrals, arching with pillars again and again like a wave, each peek severed by a beautiful crystal chandelier. Trees lingered every ten feet, growing majestically up to the ceiling with their vibrant greenery. He was walking with someone, looking up to the benches that were a few inches shy of his waist. He watched as they passed garbage cans, trying to see the lid as his companion chuckled at his antics. Zexion turned to look at his companion, the boy looking oddly familiar. He had soft but electric blue hair that looked like a cockatiel's head, or even comparatively to a shark's dorsal fin. His soft yellow eyes watched their environment, like a powerful guardian protecting his princess. His face was sharp, but his cheeks round, as if he was still loosing the baby fat and maturing. He wore a marine winter jacket with a knobby grey wool scarf wrapped tightly around his neck. The long ends reached over to be curled around Zexion's neck, sharing the warmth it provided. Their gloved hands had been twinned as they walked, both laughing happily as they saw their store, the local toy store.

"Hey ---," The name seemed forcibly erased, but the emotion poured into saying it remained lingering in the air. "I want that toy!" a little hand pointed cutely to the window, showing the giant rack of stuffed key chains. The blue haired boy chuckled, looking to it and keeping Zexion close. The store was bright and colourful, lifting the atmosphere to even happier heights.

"Alright, let us go see which one then." His voice was still changing, becoming deeper and more mature. Zexion watched him talk, happy and cheeks flush from the outside still. He giggled softly, shaking his head giddily and dragged the blue haired boy into the store. Their wet winter boots left trails of water as they entered the store, shuffling carefully over to the rack. Zexion's eyes lingered over every toy, from the purple unicorn doll to the orange monkey. His mittens shifted the giant earmuffs over his ears, getting warm from being inside as he took his time. But then, his eyes laid on the one he knew he needed. It reminded him so much of his best friend, the one who meant everything to him that he had to have it. The tint was a blue like his hair, and the eyes had been sewn in as yellow. He struggled to reach that bear doll, the floppy arms reaching mockingly down to him. He grunted and whined as he went on his tippy-toes, trying desperately to reach it. His little arms flailed from side to side, whining poorly. Until that is, his guardian without any effort grabbed it and handed it to his friend with a sweetening smile.

"Here, this one, right?" Zexion squealed and nodded, fixing it between his hands. He laughed as it was huge, really much too big to be a key chain, but the loop and chain was thick enough to carry the weight. He held it close to his face, flipping the head front and back as he mumbled his awe. His companion chuckled, holding out his hand as it was taken, then guiding them to the register. Fleetingly, Zexion eyed both the bear and his friend, comparing them both. In the end, he understood that his friend was definitely the better of the two, but he still liked them both very much. Once it was purchased, they both left the store and started trotting along again. Zexion eyed his toy and kept giggling, overly happy. He stopped, the boy walking and then stopping as he felt resistance, turning his head a fraction to eye Zexion, his cheeks rising with the smile.

"Thank you ---." Again, it seared to know the name was gone, even as tender as the massage was supposed to be. He nodded, turning around and leaning the great distance down to kiss his head. Zexion blushed, closing his eyes as his little lips parted. The boy moved back a little, looking down dearly onto his friend.

"No problem, my little-"

The memory ended suddenly when a hand rested itself on Zexion's shoulder, the doll being removed from his hands at the same time. However, Zexion refused to have that happen and gripped the doll tightly, whirling around to bark at the intruder until his eyes lifted suddenly to meet Axel's serious ones.

"Zexion, you alright?" He quarried, leaning closer as he tried for the doll again. Zexion bobbed his head, eyes narrowing as he shifted with the doll again. He felt this was important. So very important. His past was holed up and missing so many parts, and he _finally_ just remembered something.

"Yes I am. What are you trying to do Axel?!" He pulled away again, pushing himself into the table as Axel followed. Axel seemed pained, his expression one he couldn't remember as he snatched the doll finally.

"Just trust me Zex, you don't want it." Zexion tried to snatch it again, feeling his heart tearing apart. Why was this so odd? So familiar? He could hardly notice as he whined pathetically, trying to reach for it once more.

"B-but Axel-!" Before he could try anything more, Axel turned and walked away, leaving Zexion there. He couldn't move, couldn't give chase. His heart was torn in two as the memory flickered in his head, showing how happy he had been, and how happy that boy had been. His knees shook as Axel disappeared in the back, along with that one precious tool. He fell to the ground; so stirred and confused he was at a loss at what to do. He heard Roxas walking over and offering a hand, but his head didn't process it. He took it and stood, in a daze as he went back to working. Tomorrow was Saturday. He would talk with Vexen about his recent events. He always knew what to do.


	4. Chapter Four

First off, thank you all so very much for your reviews! Though I don't answer right away (Some I have yet to respond, as old as they are, heh sorry!) I will eventually!

In other matters, I hope my story isn't too confusing nor boring, because there is A LOT more shit that I have to pump into your head before it gets simple. So don't be discouraged!

Disclaimers always apply, hell if I know why we need to do these all the time. Nomura must be one paranoid sunnovahbiatch.

And hope you enjoy~!

The office was never warm; it was put to about four degrees too cold to keep people alert, focused, and even paranoid. The walls were conformed beige, and the carpet was a sort of brick brown. Two couches lined the walls as a lounge seat was angled from a corner. Behind it and along the opposite wall was a giant bookshelf, lined with large dusty tomes from older dates. A desk was facing from the window, making Zexion's psychiatric seem almost ghostly in the bright light. It did nothing to settle his nerves as he twiddled his thumbs, laying down on the couch and facing his mentor, his ally, his only truly understanding friend, Vexen.

Currently, the elder man was staring him down with his trademark acid green eyes, those that never wavered, even in the face of danger. His thin shape was hunched over his paper-clad desk, mouth in a grim firm line as he watched his former apprentice. The information he was getting was making his belly churn the coffee he had for breakfast at three this morning, and the behaviour he was witnessing was aggravating.

"…." The silence he provided only caused Zexion to lower his head to his chest, sighing faintly as he closed his eyes. He hoped, prayed that Vexen would answer his questions. And to break it, the chair chose that moment to screech as Vexen stood, forcing Zexion's body to still in shock.

"Ien- herm, Zexion… is this all, valid information I am hearing?" Spoke a worried Vexen, placing his hand on the desk and moving around it. Leaving the blinding light to reveal his doctor's lab coat and brown slacks, his hand flinched, as he did not quirk an eyebrow, but his left eye instead. Long strands of hair fell over the bangs tucked behind his ears, framing his gaunt frail face.

"…Yes… It is all true. I don't understand… how I became so easily moved by things that had no effect on me before." Zexion huffed, folding his arm childishly over his face to hide from the scrutiny he was receiving.

"Well, this is… well quite simply put, shocking. I have never witnessed such behaviour from you of all people, Zexion. I-I mean, even just your _speech_ has dramatically changed. Who did you say this started with?" Vexen was clearly eager for this information, if the fact that he scurried over to the couch and sat on it, towering over the already nervous Zexion.

"A-a schoolmate…" Even then he wanted to stop talking altogether, for no matter what he said, he felt as if he was only digging his grave deeper.

"What's the name?" Vexen was watching each newly awakened emotion flicker over the young half hidden face, his job allowing him to excel in this domain. His position on the couch side was stiff, but light, as if to make a point that he 'wasn't' even there.

"Demyx… as I said, just a classmate-..!" And as he sat up, he knew he did the wrong move. Vexen's expression was twisted into something akin to shock and fear, eyeing Zexion with a cold air of authority as he had sat up, as if preparing to defend against an attack from Zexion himself. He didn't understand this, so just fell back into his seat, eyeing the slow movements as Vexen settled again. This might have been a mistake.

"Not just any classmate, to have done this much damage to you…" Vexen murmured as he cupped his chin, moving around the couch like a predator. His eyes were keen and sharp, expression pensive as he thought and focused on the task at hand.

"D-damaged..? What do you _mean_ damaged?" he snapped, unsure of why he felt like a hare on the menu. Those eyes did make him nervous, as if he was under the knife. Really, there were a lot of things Zexion felt like when Vexen stared at him like this. None of them led him to believe that they were equals.

"What I mean, is that you had no previous memories, and suddenly, after this shattering encounter with this Demyx, you have a 'flash back'. It is no mystery to me, Zexion. He's the main cause." He reassured, patting Zexion on the shoulder as if this was a good thing. For all Zexion knew, it could be.

"And…?" Zexion prompted, leaning closer to his mentor. If there was a solution, he must take it.

"This leads me to conclude that you must… either get closer to him, or get even closer to him." Smirking, Vexen watched as a variety of emotions played on the other's face. Shock, fear, anxiety, panic, an eerie calm, then neutral. So, this was the new game plan.

"I-I see… B-but Vexe-" A hand was thrust up into Zexion's face, making the boy flinch back and blink furiously up in question.

"No buts, Zexion. This is from your Psychiatrist. It's for your health, and I don't expect you to disobey me." And with that, he flicked his wrist in dismissal as he stood, walking briskly over to his desk and sitting down. Zexion blinked a few times before gathering his bag, taking his slow sweet time. Each moment he glanced up, as if expecting his mentor to add something else, but he seemed to busy writing notes down to speak. That is, before his phone shrilly screeched a warning before turning on. A tired feminine yet manly voice carried over the phone.

"Mr. Frost? You've got a call on line two." And before anyone made a sound, the line hung up, and a red light flashed to signal a call transfer. Zexion was frozen stiff; eyes locked on that little light. He felt a small flame ignite in his chest, one that seemed to roll over his lungs and lift the weight of his shoulders. He felt his eyes prick, and his mind supplied the name. Hope. Without much care Vexen curved his hand like a broken claw and unhooked the phone, clicking the button with his pinkie finger and held the phone at an odd angle to his ear.

"Erm, hello?" And then, in the silent still air of the room, a musky and heavy voice carried kindly from the receiver. It took every molecule of will to not lunge for that device and capture the caller.

"Hey, Even? It's Aeleus Calling." Vexen allowed his lip muscle to twitch, as if his body recognized the need to smile, but his mind did not initialize it. Zexion took mental notes about this rare reaction.

"Well hello, dearly missed comrade. How has been your trip around the globe?" There was a chuckle on the other line, and Zexion tripped over himself numerous times to reach the desk, skirting around the edge to stand beside Vexen, eyes alight with the newly discovered hope. He nibbled his lip, listening to them chatter.

"It has been plentiful. I've managed to find many assets to our old research studies, and new theories to apply to older theories. I've also found new members to align with our team, and even the man himself has chosen them.

"Ah yes yes! This is good news old friend! Let's see, when is your planned return?" Zexion held his breath for a moment, his mind spinning with uncertainty at his reactions, but his heart thrumming for answers.

"I have a flight booked in for this weekend, and arrival is planned for Monday morning. Is this agreeable?" Before Even could speak, the phone was wrestled from is grasp and planted against Zexion's own ear.

"Monday sounds great, Lexaeus." There was silence on the other side before a hearty chuckle left his lips. It was always good hearing from one of his closest friends. Probably his best friend, if such things could exist for them.

"Ienzo! By golly, it seems you've grown since we've last spoken! Your voice sounds a smidgen deeper, and is that…?" Zexion nodded, gaining a look from Even before he realized it wouldn't be seen by the other.

"Oh uh, yeah." Lex chuckled once more, talking more deeply into the phone.

"So, who helped you reach these pesky things known as emotions?" His voice sounded truly curious. Not a single flaw. Zexion wondered if this was the greatest imitation know to man, or if he truly felt it.

"A boy, named Demyx." He beamed as he felt the smile through the other line. Vexen's eyes were burrowing themselves into his back.

"Well I'll be. In any case, follow Even's advice, alright?" Zexion knew he was being pushed out, because this usually signalled a closing. He nodded and then stumbled to speak again.

"Oh, uh yeah. I promise." Heartily Lexaeus chortled, finding it just how fascinating emotion was when it came from the little boy he had once known.

"Be a good boy, and hand Vexen the phone, eh?" So reluctantly, he did, and trotted off. He also noted that Vexen's voice increased in pitch as he talked with Lexaeus, and his mind again hummed with a sort of _glee _and suppliedthat Vexen missed him. And now they could catch up. Did… Lexaeus cause this sort of thing to Vexen? Or was it the other way around? Whirling around the door, he made sure to close it as quietly as possible, afraid he would stop the soft laugh falling from formerly Even's lips.

Saturday came too soon, as the light spilled forth from the singular window in the depth of the room. It filled the vacant space with the creamy tangible light, seeping over the blank white carpet and accessories in the apartment. Soon, it reached the foot of a bed, and then climbed over it and reached the wall, which made a slow climb to a small mirror. It was oddly elevated at one side, angling it away from the left and towards the right. As soon as light hit it, light was redirected at a figure sleeping in the bed, and woke him immediately.

Grumbling soundly, Zexion sat up to avoid more of the blinding light. Glancing at the clock by his side, he nodded as the justified seven fifteen flashed humbly. He got out of bed, and prepared for his day. He showered, as per usual, for filth never covered an inch of him, if he could help it. Soon, he dried his hair, and began to clothe. Black pants that he neatly tucked into knee high boots, a firm muscle shirt, two leather gloves, and a black leather coat to fit the whole thing out. Another glance at the clock, and it was seven fifty seven. He was three minutes early. As usual. Then, a tight rapping was heard against his door.

"Ienzo, the time has arisen." It was Even, and by the way he spoke, it was as if the Vexen from yesterday never even existed. Today, he was Ienzo. No questions asked. And when he thought about it, Even's voice was grainy, as if he had more important things to do. It was Saturday. They both knew there was. Fluidly, Zexion picked up his key and exited into the hall, swiftly locking his door and tucking the key away in his pocket before zipping up his coat. Vexen tapped his chest with a small .9 handgun, catching his attention for a moment.

"A gun?"

"You'll need it today. Now hurry up, our ride won't wait." So Zexion dumbly snuck the gun into the inner chest pocket, flicking up his hood and following his former mentor grimly down the stairs. The walls were a shaded cream, that seemed to have crusted and turn browner, almost as if the owner was forced to use it to mask the beer and urine stains along the corridors. The complex was obsidian black on the outside, but rain and weather had worn it down to a dull darkened grey. It looked more like a warehouse then living quarters, but the rent was cheaper.

A sleek black car had pulled up in the parking lot, and it seemed as if it too were in a hurry, the bellowing smoke from the tail pipe rising quickly and becoming tangled in the wisps of the wind. It was expensive looking in every aspect, and ugly in the same manner. It was boxy and rich, oozing munny. Before Zexion, now Ienzo, could question anything, Even approached the car and practically ripped the door off its hinges as he sat inside, closing the door behind him. Ienzo sighed and went around, taking his seat with careful reluctance, closing his door with a click.

The moment his buckle was done, the car raced off, and Even pulled out a map. The car held an air of urgency, and Ienzo was starting to feel ill. Already this early in the day? He leaned over, getting a good look at the map, and sighed. We were looking at the ruins of where the most recent attack had taken place. Groovy.

"Now Ienzo, today is a mission of elimination. There are too many heartless wandering about, and each victim they get their hands on is wiped out by the Keybladers. By eliminating both sides as efficiently as possible in this area, statistics say it will end any more outbursts from that location. It will become a safety zone, for we shall symbolize it with our own forces. Do you follow?" Nodding, Even continued.

"Movement from both sides have been spotted among alleyways, sewer canals and even building channels. Our mission also encompasses recon, and slaying. We have brought mobile magazines; so do not fret about running out. Just make sure you are close enough to a carrier, or even take ammunition from bodies. You must kill every member in sight, all branded with a symbol is to be eliminated." A shudder rose on Ienzo's spine. But there was nothing he could do, it was his job. And his turf.

"Yes, sir." Names on the battlefield meant nothing, so ranks meant everything.

"Alright, now we have five minutes until arrival. Any questions?" Ienzo shook his head, and the car was riddled with human silence. Bullet magazines were loaded up and placed in every pocket he had, and the gun was cleaned and checked for mal-functions. The car seats were made of leather, and the front was like a cab. There was a windowpane blocking the driver from view, and it was credibly black. Eyes couldn't peer trough it, but Ienzo bet all his munny that they could see in. Soon enough, the car slowed to a stop, and already it was obvious that it was the right place.

"Now, be careful. We don't have as many medics on duty today." And unceremoniously, he was shoved out of the vehicle, and into the disaster. Speeding away, Ienzo was left in the up kicked dust, and he looked quickly around. Thank god for the hood, or he would be shaking by now. It looked like a horribly ravaged district; the walls were covered in slaughtered graffiti. The roads still had blood staining them, and even some hoods and large staff like keys littered here and there. Every person walking by seemed on edge and dodgy, looking around wildly as they skittered by. Some hung around alleys and store openings, sending glares at those whom they deemed suspicious.

No one was conversing loudly, children weren't anywhere in sight, and even cars had been violated and broken up. The whole place looked shabby and worn, and Ienzo felt bile build in his throat, then, those emotions and humanity were vaulted away, and the natural cold of nothingness filed right in and filled the space. He felt at home in his skin again, wearing the mask like his flesh and skin. Straitening out his shoulders and taking confidence with each step, Ienzo started sizing up the area.

There were many alleys that all seemed interconnected, which was a good idea when it came to rapid evacuation or emergency retreat. Some buildings had a few fire escapes dangling down and within a meter's reach, which was also another enemy advantage. However, the buildings were all very flat surfaced, which doesn't allow much work in a battle. Quickly mulling these things over, Ienzo made his way into one of the alleyways and followed the trail of battle.

He happened upon a grieving woman, huddled over a cloak with tears and blood dried right into its core. Her brown hair fell around her sobbing face, and it did nothing to hide her ragged cloths either. Further along, he found a man yelling and cursing about his ruined merchandise, the carrier that housed it ripped into scrap metal. Then, a store laid in ruins, the glass windows blown right out of their barriers and littered the street. Black char licked at every surface within, and a few telltale objects like tables and broken chairs stood like charcoal skeletons.

But Ienzo never stopped calculating his course, taking every piece of destruction in note, but only for reference. He felt no pity towards these people, and he was glad he hadn't to. Soon, he found an interesting piece of evidence. A manhole lid had snapped itself down on a long piece of cloth, and this revealed the entry point to the renegade's sewer hideout. Perfect, now all he needed was leverage. Giving a quick survey of what was around him, he spotted a heavy duty looking Keyblade, and grinned a faint bit. He quickly scooped it up and without hesitation stabbed the end into the crevice between the street and the lip of the cap, and heaved as hard as he could.

The heavy lid made a few groan noises before being hefted up onto the street, where it lay still. The cloth had been another cape, and when the heavy weight had been lifted it fell free into the dark cavern below. Dropping his now useless tool, he quickly observed the possibilities of the pit, and leapt right inside. He felt the wind rush through his cloths, sending his coat soaring up behind him before his feet made contact with the solid ground. His knees snapped as he stood balance, his heels and calves catching the shock as he stood again, his coat whiplashing against the floor with eerie silence.

The water gurgling below the metal grate was the first noise to hit him, if the acrid scents hadn't first. He stood still, eyes adjusting within moments to the crude dark, and soon his hearing could capture the small scurrying of rats and a faint clanging in the distance. He drew his gun, pulling the cavity back to arm it properly, then held it at arms length and set to fire. His position fell into that of a soldier, his pace calm as he strode forward, past the carcasses of dead things and rotting garbage. He left the safe halo of light behind, plunging into the dangers of the dark. But he was one with it, hunting for his prey with sharp all seeing eyes.

Soon, he forced himself to still as bubbles of half made words reached his ears. He approximated that a few targets sat around a bend fifteen feet away, and he steadied his body as he moved forward to apprehend his prey. Soon, the words started to form and bounce along the walls, the whispers futile in their effort to remain secret. The light that rippled off small sections of water lapped at the ceiling of the sewer, the dancing sparks reflecting off Ienzo's steady face. It only distracted him for a milli-second, and soon he was leaning against the edge opening, intent on the conversation.

"Why are we hiding…? I hate it down here!" A male voice shushed her way, water being sloshed as he stepped closer to the woman.

"Because, we must conserve our forces! Fight another day! Don't you understand?" That was evidence enough. Before either could react, Ienzo slung himself off the wall, whipping his gun around and shot two clean rounds into their shocked faces. The blond haired man and the red-headed woman soon collapsed, their foreheads oozing blood before they sunk beneath the three inches of sewer water. He quickly checked his rounds, then prepped the gun to shed those two empty casings. He then re-armed his weapon, and began his stalking further through the sewers. The rounds still rang against the Sewer walls, and he knew company was coming.

"… hear that?" A man asked.

"Scary…! …gun shots..?" A younger woman whined, sloshing clumsily through the water.

"Get over… hurry!" Another man, who sounded older, shouted.

"Is someone…?" Another woman asked, her voice wavering gently.

Ienzo quickly, without making too much noise with the water, dove for shelter against the sewer walls, and clung to the dark shadows to disappear. He kept his gun aimed at the opening, eyes calculating trajectories and angles, before the group of four appeared. His first shot was aimed at the closest, the elder woman, who took a blow to the chest and fell backwards, her body rippling with shock as her arms flung out. Her left wrist smacked the man at her side, which had received the second shot to his shoulder, and then a second blow to his throat, which spurted a bright gleaming red streak of liquid, like a shaken wine bottle. He crumpled over his knees, falling to smash his face on the lip of the sewer, before falling backwards and into the lower cavity of the system.

The other two had prepared themselves enough to arm their guns, but the younger man too fell as a bullet grazed his head, then another impaled itself into his lung cavity. Before he fell completely, he attempted a shot, which was aimed three meters too high. Zexion made to hit the girl, but the man's body had fallen before the shot, and Zexion's gun was empty. Quickly dropping the casing, he grabbed another and buried it in the gun's hilt, immediately loading it and arming it again. Before he could make a good clean shot, the wine coloured red-head had already fled, her clumsy steps and sobs leading the way into their innermost lair.

Ienzo hurried to pursue her, his heel digging into one of the bodies as he dove after the young girl. She seemed to have been around fourteen years of age, her small form struggling with her grief to run to safety. He fired a round, and conveniently she managed to trip, the bullet only grazing a few tips of her hair and slicing them neatly. Her whine of pain as her knees smashed into the ground helped Ienzo gather his sightings again and fire, but she had lunged up again, and the bullet tore through her leg.

She screamed, her voice loud and terribly alerting as Ienzo stepped behind her, aiming his gun's hilt down and smashing the end into the base of her neck. Her blue eyes popped wide, mouth agape as her nerves surrendered and shook her, causing her brain to shut down. Her body slumped forward, her knees hitting the ground again as her face finished into her final fall. Before he could even consider anything else, he aimed his gun and fired a round clean into the back of her head.

Her head lifted from the shot, blood pooling from that small hole at the back of her head and leaked onto her pale neck. The water around her face began to wisp red streams, and soon her body was haloed with blood as it slowly bled down stream. Satisfied, Ienzo upheld his gun and looked up to survey the next targets, before he realized a sliver of his mistake.

At the end of the hall, two young men held two very different keyblades at hand. The tallest had silver hair pointed down from his head, and his sharp illuminated green eyes pierced into Ienzo's empty ones. His sword was held up at face level, his other hand held open, as if he was asking a price. His chest was clothed in yellow as his navy blue bubble shaped pants ended at his shins. Large navy blue shoes sunk in the water as he panted for breath, disbelief tarnishing his expression. The Keyblade had a narrowed eye of it's own, a white wing surrounding the blue and red markings that carved out the shaft of the weapon.

The other boy had chocolate brown locks arrayed to one side like a mountain, his soft sky blues wide and wet with unshed tears. He was hunched over to one side, holding his Keyblade like it was his solution to everything. He wore a silver necklace with a crown on the end, and it seemed to be the theme for his belt too. He wore a one part red shirt and short combination, along with a small waist long sweater over his shoulders. His wide and insanely large yellow shoes almost glowed in the lack of light. In his hand was a large and ironic shape of a Keyblade, the end pronged again with the same crown shape.

Both stared at Ienzo with such hate, that he understood at once that this was their companion he had just gunned down. But he needn't worry. He held a gun. He could kill them both in two, three shots. But then he heard a clamour from behind him, and he knew he had been cornered. Well crap.

"Now don't be stupid. Hand's where I can see 'em!" He heard feet scramble up into the pipe, and a short side-glance and Ienzo counted five on the other end. But he wasn't prepared for the cry of sorrow he heard from another female.

"Oh my god…! That beast! He killed Kairi!" And the brunette before him shifted, hands tightened around his Keyblade. The gloves he wore did nothing to hide how his fingers had turned bone white. Ienzo began to calculate his escape. These people won't be taking prisoners, nor will they allow him to live any longer. Glancing up, he noticed a manhole cover about three meters closer to the two Keybladers at the end, and a plan formulated in his head.

Quickly, before his opponents could outwit him, he turned his gun on the two at the end of the hall and fired a clean shot into the silverette's leg, causing him to scream in agony and fall over, clutching to his wound and dropping his weapon. The brunette panicked, looking over to his friend and dropping his guard. "Riku!"

Then Ienzo swung his gun and fired two rounds the other direction, hitting one square in the shoulder and another in the hip. The shattering of her bones broke the daze as the remaining forces charged at him, all their varied Keyblades raised and ready to swing down. But their target, quickly leapt up again the wall, scampering along the ridge for a few steps before kicking himself up, firing his last two shots into the lid, making the catches jump. Hurriedly he dug his metal-toed boot into the lip and heaved, forcing the lid out of the way and allowing soft sunlight to poor onto his opponents, blinding them momentarily.

The brunette howled in fury, shielding his eyes as he returned his gaze skyward, his eyes slowly adjusting to the new fire of light. The others seemed disoriented as they gathered their wits, eacha nd every single pair of eyes up to the mocking halo of light that flooded over the body below. They then all at once howled in pure rage, sorrow and grief. For at the hole, there was no sign of their attacker.

Later, as police officers searched the sewers and pipelines after witnesses claimed to have had blood flowing through their faucets, the cops found a total count of 47 bodies. Most had gun shot wounds to vital points, and one had a bullet hand shoved through their eye socket. Files pilled up about the massacre and potential causes and names, but all of them pointed to a third party involved in this dirty gang war. There were no infected or manipulated bodies to be found, nor were there any normal signs of heartless label vials or needles with the infection.

Many cops dismissed these deaths as a centered riot that broke out between two allied parties, but detectives couldn't rule out the fact that most expressions they saw were of fear, and desperation. Most even had possessions among them that pointed to an unknown killer who struck in one fell swoop. They searched the whole block for clues and asked witnesses, and all they could really gather was on that very morning, a sleek black vehicle dropped off one single man, who then disappeared entirely as if he had been a phantom.

They found his bullets and their casings littered about his trail of destruction, and checked them for different manufacturers or sellers. But they were untraceable. About three days after the tests, all casing and bullets pulled from autopsies had gone missing, and many thefts had been made at the police stations around the area. No one can say for sure that anything happened that day, or that anything had even been done about the incident. All that does remain, beside the rumours and talk, was that nobody had been caught for this unseemly crime.

No body.

Haha, sorry for the lateness for this guys! Life really took a turn for the worst, and I'm barely managed to squeeze in any free time! I promise to work real hard and get started on the next chapter for you!

I stole owe about nine other stories atm, so I'm trying my very best to juggle them all at once! I hope to be able to finish all the requests and post another chapter by the end of the summer. So please, my very dear readers, please bear with me! This story is FAR from over! And it just gets better as we go along. I PROMISE!

-with lots of love, DancingFlurry.


	5. Chapter Five

_Dear Ienzo Nesam Fair, _

_Today, Thursday the thirteenth of February, a package shall be corporally sent to your door. The contents are of class 35-G, and should be kept under regulations 6 and 7 of the code._ _It is in retrospect to your execution of your latest mission that your weapon class be upgraded to a multi-function combat tool._

_With greatest regard to your safety and swiftness in your missions, we highly thank you for your contribution to the protection of the code and the Organisation thirteen. We also commemorate you to the third grade of reward, and along with your 35-G we send a card of classification. We bid you good luck, and utmost secrecy._

_With great ado and gratitude,_

_Sire of the first court,_

_The Wise. _

As class had always been, it was noisy and full of clatter and talk. Many chattered about their weekends, about the parties and hook-ups, the rumours and outfits. It was all so sickening to listen to, the mindless talk about horrible selfish ideas and dreams, the heartless cruelty of jabs and half thought insults. The girls who prepped their nails like claws as they crushed innocent reputations of other girls who could never be as incredibly beautiful as they are. Boys who spoke about the pretty girls, about who's boobs they could see best, who wore the trashiest or sexiest outfits, who was best to get laid and who was just eye candy.

Zexion held his head, hands clamped over his ears as he tried to ignore the horror that was preppy conversation. No one spoke of the good that occurred, no one really cared. He ground his teeth on his pencil, trying his damn best to listen to the teacher, to focus on his paper. But it was all so futile as another male student howled in laughter, smashing his fist on the table as he too berated another innocent girl who tried to attend their disgusting party. What children. What horrible people.

"Hrm hrm. Settle down everyone. Here's where we learn, not speak so critically over the weekend." Then, as if they had any respect at all, they did as they were told and settled into a hasty silence. Most heads turned twelve degrees to the right to eye the clock over the door, which indicated another fifteen of class remained. The balding English teacher then coughed, tapping the black board and continued his lesson. Zexion snapped his pencil out of his mouth, tasting a few wood chips between his teeth and continued taking notes.

Behind him, people started to whisper in hushed voices about the same girl, grinning and giggling about how horribly she dressed, and how she was unable to talk to people without threats. They kept degrading her and abusing her, all the while laughing. They critiqued her poor hairstyle that was pale lavender purple, fashioned into a female Mohawk. They grimaced over her punk taste in cloths, and snidely commented on where else she could be decorated with piercings.

Then, Zexion realised just who they were gossiping about. It was Paine, an acquaintance to Selphie. His body locked up as he listened in, becoming more and more furious as the comments got uglier and uglier. His hand gripped his pencil with abominable strength, snapping the poor thing into two as he felt his face flare red. This was unfair. He couldn't let them talk about her this way! He took a quick breath, ironing down his nerves as he steeled his body, flashing another look to the clock.

Perfect, he thought. Just a dire five minutes left. Quickly swerving in his seat, before he could really critique his actions, he launched his broken pencil to the group of boys. The two chunks struck them in the shoulder and one in the back of the head, which silenced them immediately. Their gazes turned to hurt surprise as they locked onto Zexion's furious ones. He bared his teeth in a harsh grimace, spitting out his words with more malevolence he thought possible.

"Listen here, you idiots. No one has the right to judge anyone else for what they look like. No one has the right to talk about someone so poorly as you have!" He felt all eyes in the classroom turn on him, and his strength wavered. However, he was too fired up, too hot and angry to stop himself from speaking up a fraction louder, catching all their attention. "Do you feel no shame? Could you say that to her face, and still feel proud and strong? Not so confident now huh?"

The boys were now trembling, all exchanging glances of guilt as they curled their arms to themselves. Zexion could never think of these students as adults, waiting for the new world to happen upon them. They were all foolish children, without having the adult regrets waiting to snare them.

"What if Paine was talking about you this way! Wouldn't you want her to stop? To think about not hurting YOU this way? What the hell is wrong with you people!" He felt his voice wavering with anger as he gathered his things quickly, standing up to walk over to them. He knew he was being aggressive; his mind was whirling in the confusion of his newly awakened emotions and didn't know how to stop himself, to retain his emotionless dignity again. It was much too late for that now.

"Think about the golden rule you people have made for yourself. So next time you feel like bashing someone over who they are, and who they pride themselves to be;" He jabbed his finger into the culprit's face, making him jerk back and sink into his chair. Zexion smirked on the inside with pride on being able to make him cower like that. His voice straightened out as he finished his speech. "Think about how you would feel if no one came to defend you from their vicious thoughts!"

And as he tilted his chin, attaining the pride he deserved, the bell buzzed and shattered the shocked atmosphere he created. Without waiting for them to rebuke him, or even speak back, he turned sharply on his heel, and with utmost grace sauntered out of the classroom into the hall. The class then started to move, gathering their things and shuffling slowly outwards. Zexion fled to his next classroom, panting and shaking as if he had been struck by a panic attack.

He held to his throat, trying to calm down as hysteric laughter left his lips. He did it. He really did it. He stood up to people in his classroom. And the laughs bubbled from his mouth, escaping his lungs as he slipped to the floor; ignorant of the people shooting him stares and smirks. He kept laughing, smiling as he cupped his mouth, as if trying to contain the boundless emotion. Then he slowly calmed, looking up to Aerith as she smiled and opened the classroom door.

He stood, dusting off his pants and shifting his books into a better position, turning to walk into his classroom. That is, until he heard a nasty chuckle and a few high toned insults. As he focused, it became all too clear what they were talking about.

"…Stupid freak, laughing to himself. What a loser." He shook his head and entered his class, feeling his mood drop drastically to a negative one. Taking his spot, third seat from the door, front row, he placed his books in their respective spaces, took out a new pencil and got ready for class. Sometimes, Zexion mused, humanity was better off facing extinction.

Thursday was surprisingly a fast paced day. As promised, his team mates Selphie and Tidus held their side of the deal and finished a lot of what Zexion hadn't even touched, and they spent the rest of the period working together, much to Zexion's newly discovered delight. He had no idea how much emotions helped fuel him, and each spur of the moment was a new discovery for his ever-curious mind. Aerith seemed very pleased with his co-operation, and his more active responses during questions and class.

When the bell rang and the students made their way out the classroom door, his team heartily wished him a good day, and they all parted ways. He then strode to the cafeteria, passing by a few chuckling faces and sneers, and ignored them all as he b-lined straight to the canteen. Snatching his tray of food and paying his bill, he then chose a good hidden corner and stashed himself away, hoping for a quiet and filled lunch. Sorting his food so it all sat symmetrically on his tray, he decided to eat his tuna sandwich first.

He took a healthy bite, planning to enjoy his food before someone fell clumsily into the seat before him, startling him from his thoughts and forcing him to swallow too soon. After gagging a few times, and swallowing his food properly, he lifted his eyes to meet those swimming pools of blue green he memorized much too well. And he wished he had something else lodged in his mouth so he wouldn't have had the opportunity to just let it drop open. Then again, perhaps it was best that nothing had fallen out of his mouth as he regained his senses.

"Hey there, Zexii!" Demyx sing-songed, dragging his Sitar to lean against the cheap cafeteria tables, making sure it would stay before dropping his tray onto the table. An orange juice rolled onto the floor as his apple bounced and rolled to the other end of the table, but it seemed his eyes were too focused upon Zexion's to notice. Zexion indeed noticed this.

"D-don't call me that, please." His throat felt dry as he swallowed, smoothing his tongue over his teeth to try and moisten them so they wouldn't stick to his lips. But it didn't really help as Demyx laughed and leaned forward, elbow braced against the table as he leered so heavily at him.

"Oh, really? But I like that nickname." And it was without reserve that Zexion's face flushed, turning red from his cheeks to his throat. He again coughed, rubbing his nose and allowed his eyes to wander. Really, how did this boy do it to him every time?

"P-please refrain from using it in public…" And holding himself further from the table didn't seem like such a smart idea as Demyx leaned in more, like a shark following the scent.

"Awww, poo. Don't be so shy, silly! You're supposed to let loose and have fun in everything you do!" Then he stretched his hand forward to steal Zexion's and held it close, grinning from ear to ear. He shook it once, twice before Zexion retreated again, hiding his hands under the table.

"I thought it was work your best and play later."

Laughing, Demyx took every action in stride. He slung himself back a little more, slouching his arm onto the chair back as he settled into his seat, comfortable around his schoolmate. His eyes glowed as he smiled his signature smile, the sun catching his hair in the mid-afternoon breeze. Zexion was really unlucky when it came to interactions such as these. Why oh why did Even order him to do such an absurd thing?

"Well, I play hard as I work hard, so it evens out for me." Demyx drawled as he rolled his head over, taking an angle to stare intently at Zexion.

"I don't think it works that way at all." To better distract himself from doing anything dumb, he reached over for his apple and started picking at the grocery sticker, keeping his eyes down as Demyx barked with more laughter.

"Oh I see how it is. Work-a-holic or just really dedicated, hm?" And again he leaned forward, trying to absorb every once of Zexion's attention. And by golly did it work as he looked up, trying so hard not to make a face and ruin the moment.

"Dedication. It's what's expected of me, and I will do my very best." Satisfied, he leaned back and studied his nails for a second, glancing up at Zexion to focus his attention on him. Zexion's face prickled with heat as he wished to rub his cheeks, but he kept his hands hidden, for good measure he reasoned.

"Wow, that should be a motivational poster." And endearingly he leaned forward, cupping his cheek as he intently stared upon Zexion, watching him with such precise movements it was hard to call him ditzy anymore. Zexion shrunk into his seat, preparing himself again today for the roller coaster his body seemed to ride everytime Demyx was around. Their conversation carried for another short while before it took a different a turn.

"So Zexii, what do you do on weekends?"

And Zexion felt his blood go cold, his body stiffen in automatic response. Shooting the floor a good hard look, he backtracked to try and figure out how this topic came to be. As he felt himself start to panic, his mouth just moved on its own volation.

"Well, I go see my old mentor on the Saturday, and then I complete extra work on Sunday." He internally beat himself up for spilling his private life, but Demyx hardly gave him the time to dwell on it.

"Oh wow, busy man, eh?"

"Y-yeah…" He kept his eyes away from Demyx, knowing that the blond was still eyeing him up and down. Zexion didn't know whether or not he should be bothered or irritated by it, and his question was answered as someone approached his table. Zexion stiffened as he looked up to the intruder, scared it was going to be a taunting scenario he was all to familiar with, but then he felt at ease as sharp cobalt met punk violet.

"You the one who defended me in class today?" Paine's finger seemed more of an upset accuser as she pointed at him, face frowning and looking silently hurt. She must have heard the rumours fly around, and come to stop the source. Meaning silencing the person who stepped into her issues. Zexion shrunk deeper into his seat, feeling as if his whole lunch was over before it had even started.

"Y-yes… I did."

Demyx raised an eyebrow as he grinned, curious yet proud at the same time. Paine seemed to have melted completely from her angry façade, and a slight smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Well, thanks. Not many people care enough to stand up, and I definitely didn't expect it from someone like you."

"Not many do…" He kept his eyes down, hoping for the best from this situation before a small gum package sized box was placed before him, and a hand pat his shoulder affectionately. He looked up in delirium as Paine nodded her head, and slowly made her way back to her table, with Selphie beaming proudly at him. He felt his face flush for a new reason, and grabbed the royal blue labeled box. Demyx had leaned in close again, using his elbows to hold himself up over the table.

"'Ey, what's in it..?" And he tilted his head just so cutely that the blush seemed to stain his skin. Zexion gulped and flipped it over, finding the lightning green writing for 'world famous' blueberry pie. He felt his throat tighten a bit and a flutter in his stomach before they disappeared entirely. He soon stuffed the box in his pocket, and Demyx whined from un-indulged curiosity.

"Eyyy! Lemme see too!" But Zexion shook his head, feeling a swelling on his heart that he was all too familiar with. He glanced at Paine again, who was busy listening to her friends in stoic silence. His eyes narrowed as Demyx blundered on, not noticing the lack of attention as he voiced his complaints and went as far to poking Zexion's hands. But Zexion himself was thinking very hard.

Does she know anything about his past..?

The day had gone better than expected, and Zexion was well on his way home. As he passed the familiar grafittied streets, he looked up and down the walls and over stores. In the depths of his mind, he noticed that the Heartless insignias had taken a great step forward and began to cover the Crowned ones' symbols like a rabid disease. It really wasn't any different from what they really were, but the indication that the Keybladers were loosing ground was somewhat a good one.

But Zexion had more important things to do. The letter he received this morning, he must attend to his package. Before anyone figures out what was in it. But, Zexion reaffirmed for himself, that it was very unlikely someone would come visit him in this disgusting place anyway. So he took his careful time unlocking each door that came to pass, and soon locked his own behind him. And when he turned, he spotted the very thing he needed was set delicately upon his bedspread. It was a box that seemed massive enough to fit a toddler inside, but it was too shallow to hide it completely.

He quickly removed his jacket and parcels, setting up his workspace on his desk before taking a seat on the end of the bed and dragging the box to himself. He shook his shoulders, riding himself of the tension and nerves riding his skin into goose flesh. He read the labels, which were from five different delivery services from different worlds all over the map. It means this package was completely untraceable. Which suited him fine, because his address wasn't on it either.

Quickly, he removed the tape and dove inside, pulling out a small box with a silver card inside. Turning it over and examining it closely, it was obvious that this package was from his organisation. The flaw of Ienzo's name was replaced by his real one, and the valid information he knew that only a bare few knew was also properly kept written. His memory quickly recalled Aerith's inquiries, but he soon let it fall for better things.

He stashed the slightly heavier card into his wallet, and quickly withdrew his new weapon from the sheets of paper. Within, was a much large and upgraded pistol. He examined the melded black metal with the white insignia imprinted on the handle, admiring the perfect ebony finish with a smooth and careful hand. The browning 9 millimetre Hi-power was a far greater weapon, and the thought made him grin softly as he clicked the case into his palm. The gun was special made to be as light as it's cousin, but still powerful and with more fire power.

Soon, weariness of the day and nervousness overtook his tired mind, and he stashed the gun where the other had been hidden. It took him a few minutes to remove all groceries from the fridge grids and remove them as well, before using a knife to prop out the plastic coating on the inside walls of the fridge. Stowing his new prize with the bundles of munny and his smaller gun, he quickly set to resealing and hiding all evidence of the hideaway. And as if nothing was wrong, he turned on his nightlight and started his day's accumulated homework.

Deep in his mind, as he wrote each question down in perfect cursive script, he darkly thought about his day, and the guns in his fridge. He wondered for a long time that night if other kids had the same missions and secret life he did, and to behave like a society should hid their secrets away. He snidely scolded himself to remember that half the world wasn't even worth the air they breathed. And as he settled himself in that night, he dully recalled a weekend visit to his family in two days.

He was sure, that the next three days starting tomorrow would spell out his utter doom.

Whew! What a long process this chapter was! I kept running to dead ends, and ended up scrapping a third of my ideas because too many foundations had already been founded. But I have finally typed up the next part to my story! Fantastic ain't it?

So I hope you enjoyed, and do not forget to Review. I re-read them as I type along, to give myself inspiration and motivation to keep going. Because when I lose steam, that's what picks me up to keep going again.

And just by reading makes an authoress happy too! So hope you had fun so far!

Until the next chapter, my lovlies~

(Btw, if you ask questions, I'll answer to the extent of the chapter's knowledge, so as not to spoil the story TOO much! But please, keep on coming! This story just evolved another ten chapters longer XD)

-With love,

Dancing Flurry; UnNamed-Chase-er


	6. I'm so sorry

Hey everyone,

So this story has been left to rot for what, a year now? Maybe less, maybe more, never the less, it's been too long. I've grown and changed since then, expanded my horizons and learned a few things.

Looking back on this, I feel like it was awful, rushed and made next to no sense. I'm starting university now, and I've begun to notice how badly I neglect things. Fanfics, drawings, people, possessions. I've got to grow up and become more reliable. I plan to finish a few other fics, but come October this story is going to be in the process of a necessary face-lift. That is, if people still CARE enough to see it revamped.

Tell me, any of my dear readers who still support this sack of shit, do you want Answer me! to become something better, or should I begin new things?

Please review ;-;


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